Alien Abduction: A LitRPG
by Zoltan Berrigomo
Summary: A college freshman is kidnapped by aliens and forced to become a gladiator. There's just one problem: it's hard to imagine anyone more unsuited to the task...
1. The abduction

It goes without saying that I never believed in UFOs, regardless of however many SyFy specials I've imbibed throughout the years. I even recall a paper, maybe in the tenth grade or thereabouts, where I argued that alien abductions flow out of a fundamental human need for importance, out of a desire to feel that, however absurd it may be, each and every one of us is of sufficient interest to an intergalactic civilization to cross light years of space, all just to poke us around in our squishy parts and see what we're made of.

So what were my thoughts when, walking home from the bus stop on a hot summer evening, I saw the saucer shape come out seemingly out of nowhere and hover twenty feet or so above me? To be perfectly honest, if I try to reconstruct my mental process when I saw the laser beam come out of that familiar hole in the middle - bloody hell, just how did every single TV special seem to get it right? - I'm not sure I was thinking anything at all. If I was smarter, perhaps I would have run.

An instant passed as the light washed over me. I felt vaguely disoriented, uncertain. I was stuck, but I couldn't say where. Time seemed to go on interminably and I remember wishing it would stop. It made sense at the time.

And then it was all over and I found myself beset by bright lights. A sound filled the air, flat, loud, omnipresent, sort of like I was in the middle of a stampede. Squinting, I tried to make out where I was.

" _Our next entrant bears the name of Ellsberg Joshua Adam."_

The booming announcer voice was loud and cut through all the ambient stampede noise, which anyway ceased shortly afterwards.

" _On his homeworld, he is level one within the discipline of physics, which is a kind of applied theosophy."_

The lights dimmed and I could suddenly see where I was. An arena. An absurdly tall arena. I could see stands that seemed to recede into the sky. And on the stands were...surely that wasn't real?

" _His physical prowess is several standard deviations below the other contestants we've seen. I'd say he has quite a challenge on his hands!"_

Elves. If you want more precision on my part, I could say I saw a collection of humanoids of above average height, harshly sloped faces, abnormal thinness, and pointed lobia. Seriously, they could have stepped off the set of a Lord of The Rings movie.

" _It would be quite a pity to see him perish, for our contestant remains a virgin. Were he to die before our eyes today, he would go to his doom without tasting of the fruits that make the poets sing. So best of luck to him - and if not, may he achieve perfection in the next life!"_

Well, that was embarrassing. Also, what the hell was that about the "next life?" If I was going to be achieving perfection in any life, it had better be this one!

Okay, this has gotta be proof that I'm either dreaming or suffering some kind of psychotic breakdown. I had been working pretty hard studying for finals - I really wish I hadn't overloaded during the Summer quarter - and I must have exhausted myself to the point of dementia, if such a thing is possible.

Meanwhile, the sound of a stampede resumed, and I could now see what was causing it - it seemed all the elves in the arena were stomping their feet in unison. The sound of whistles filled the air; someone unfurled a banner somewhere, with symbols in a strange language I did not know. It looked vaguely like Chinese, with elaborate, graceful symbols that looked like logograms.

The sound died down again as a gate at the edge of the arena opened and something wheeled forth in my direction.

It was a Dalek.

Well, sort of. It looked vaguely like a Dalek, but it was two to three times my height; there were what looked like rocket launchers attached to its sides; and a bright red light came out of some kind of laser-pointy thing perched on top. It also had short, stubby appendages which on inspection were made out of saws.

And - but of course - it was repeating "Exterminate! Exterminate!" in a metallic voice as it moved in my direction.

I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming, I thought. I pinched myself, with no effect. Meanwhile the Dalek stopped and extended its rocket launchers towards me.

I jumped to the side, and it was a good thing I did, for had I delayed by a mere second I would likely be in pieces. The blast from the explosion knocked me over and I tumbled several times - thankfully, the floor of the arena was covered in soft grass - before rising to my feet. Sharp pain went through my knees. I wondered if I was about to find myself awakening from this nightmare in the safety of my bedroom.

The Dalek started turning, ever so slowly, in my direction.

It was then that I noticed for the first time the flickering letters at the edge of my vision.

" _Assign points: yes/no?"_

Without knowing quite how I did it, I chose _yes._


	2. An unconventional allocation

CURRENT LEVEL: 1

POINTS TO ASSIGN: 20

LEVEL AFTER POINT ASSIGNMENT: 5

STRENGTH: 5 ( _16th percentile for current level)_

AGILITY: 6 ( _22nd percentile for current level)_

PERCEPTION: 12 ( _60th percentile for current level_ )

CONSTITUTION: 7 ( _30th percentile for current level)_

INTELLIGENCE: 18 ( _98th percentile for current level)_

CHI: 10 ( _50th percentile for current level)_

CHARISMA: 10 ( _50th percentile for current level)_

Without thinking too much, I dumped a bunch of points into agility, which I needed desperately right now if I was going to be dodging rockets. The Dalek was still turning in my direction with almost comic slowness. I began to run diagonally to avoid being in front of it. If there was one thing my gaming experience had taught me, it's that when you don't know what to do, you should run in circles.

This seemed to work, likely due to the agility boost I just got; I had to keep on running but the Dalek's turn rate was slow enough that I was able to keep just ahead of it's rocket launcher. Several times, I almost tripped as the arena was strewn with weapons: bows, swords, halberds. I even remember seeing a wookie bowcaster somewhere.

CURRENT LEVEL: 2

POINTS TO ASSIGN: 14

LEVEL AFTER POINT ASSIGNMENT: 5

STRENGTH: 5 ( _14th percentile for current level)_

AGILITY: 12 ( _58nd percentile for current level)_

PERCEPTION: 12 ( _58th percentile for current level_ )

CONSTITUTION: 7 ( _28th percentile for current level)_

INTELLIGENCE: 18 ( _97th percentile for current level)_

CHI: 10 ( _48th percentile for current level)_

CHARISMA: 10 ( _48th percentile for current level)_

I seemed to be able to manipulate the menu with my thoughts. Most of these traits were self-explanatory. On a whim, I expanded Intelligence and an explanation popped up:

"INTELLIGENCE: boosts in this stat rewire the brain to boost cognitive ability, problem solving, creativity, working memory, and related attributes."

The Dalek had stopped turning and fired a rocket somewhere quite far from me, which gave me the time to stop for a quick breather. Running in circles might be a viable strategy but I couldn't keep on doing it forever.

I looked at the only other stat that wasn't self-explanatory.

"CHI: boosts in this stat turn you more in tune with the universe."

Well, that was suitably mysterious.

So what were my options here?

I could boost up my strength and agility, pick up a weapon, roll close to the Dalek and go hand-to-hand. But the robot seemed heavily armored and, anyway, this option did not play my strong suits. I was already starting far behind in strength, agility, and constitution.

I could increase my intelligence and hope that a solution would present itself to the smarter me. But rewiring your brain...that felt iffy, a bit like death. As if I was replacing myself with someone else who would take over my body. I remembered endless debates back in an intro to philosophy class - if I change my brain to a replica of Napoleon's brain one neuron at a time, do I cease to be me? If so, should I think of myself as dying constantly given that my body rewires my neurons daily?

I didn't have any good answers but, just to be on the safe side, I wasn't touching the intelligence stat.

But then what could I do?

The Dalek started turning in my direction again and I resumed circling. I had to do something and I had to do it soon.

An idea began to take hold in my mind. I wouldn't be able to get out of this predicament without risk, I said to myself. Every option was a gamble with unknown odds. I already felt my legs starting to get heavy. I needed to choose. So, with a heavy heart, I closed my eyes, said a short prayer to a God I did not believe in, and allocated my remaining stats.

CURRENT LEVEL: 5

POINTS TO ASSIGN: 0

STRENGTH: 5 ( _12th percentile for current level)_

AGILITY: 12 ( _56th percentile for current level)_

PERCEPTION: 12 ( _56th percentile for current level_ )

CONSTITUTION: 7 ( _25th percentile for current level)_

INTELLIGENCE: 18 ( _95th percentile for current level)_

CHI: 24 ( _99th percentile for current level)_

CHARISMA: 10 ( _45th percentile for current level)_


	3. The battle

Immediately I felt different.

I can't quite explain how. It was almost as if there was a melody, just beyond the range of hearing, and I could almost hum it. As if the universe itself was whispering in my ears, though I wasn't sure what it was saying. As if the hidden patterns behind the world were...well, if not quite laid bare, then perhaps their outlines or shadows were a little more visible.

Why was I here?

The question presented itself with a raw urgency. And the answer was suddenly clear.

To provide entertainment, of course.

But that had an obvious corollary.

A solution to my predicament exists. It isn't fun to watch a robot slaughter a helpless human. The odds need to be, if not even, then roughly of the same magnitude. The human needs to have a fighting chance.

But the question remained nagging in my mind. Why was **I** here? Why me?

If they wanted to see a hand-to-hand sword vs saw battle, they could have kidnapped someone from the college football team. No, I must be here because there is a way to win that plays to my strengths.

The universe is giving me hints, I realized. That is what the CHI stat means.

My mind continued, seemingly of its own accord. Elves. Homicidal robots. A gladiatorial arena. This place was very trope-aware. Could I exploit that?

What do you when faced with an artificial intelligence out for your blood?

I stopped running for a moment and shouted. "Does the set of all sets contain itself?"

And - bless me - the Dalek stopped, if only for a second before resuming turning in my direction.

"Invalid question. The definition of a set precludes consideration of the set of all sets."

It answered! It actually answered! It was the same tin voice that was repeating "Exterminate" earlier, and it seemed to be coming out of a grate in the robot's torso.

If it had answered yes, my next question would have been to ask whether the set of all sets that are not members of themselves contains itself. It's a doozy, but either answer leads to a contradiction. Unfortunately, the robot didn't take the bait.

All right then, let's try something else.

"This statement is false."

"Invalid statement." This time it did not even pause. "Self-reference prevents assignment of truth value."

"A million grains of sand is a heap; a heap of sand minus a grain is a heap; therefore one grain of sand is a heap."

"Sorites paradox detected." Again, it did not even slow down. "Predicate 'heap' has unclear boundaries."

Okay, so the metal trash can had a reasonable knowledge of philosophy. If I was going to stump it, it was going to be with something it had never encountered before. Something no one would have thought to program into it.

Maybe something a little stupid.

"Not all positive integers are interesting," I shouted.

This time it did pause. "Correct. The mathematical properties of most natural numbers are not worthy of the processor cycles required to investigate them."

"So there exists a set of non-interesting positive integers."

"Premise accepted."

"But then this same set has a smallest element," I finished. "Which is interesting?"

The Dalek stopped and I did as well, for I was nearly out of breath.

"The smallest non-interesting positive integer is interesting by virtue of having that property," it repeated.

Well, fuck.

For a half-a-minute or so we just stood there without either of us saying anything.

"Proof by contradiction accepted. All positive integers are interesting. Extermination cancelled. Resolved: my remaining processor cycles must be dedicated to the study of properties of integers," it declared, before turning around and wheeling back towards the open gate it came from.

And then the arena was filled once more with the sound of a stampede as seemingly every elf began stomping feet against the floor.

 _Author's Note: I'm not sure if I'm going to continue writing this - I just thought it would be fun to write a short litrpg featuring an unconventional protagonist and a point allocation which forces him to solve problems with a little bit of cleverness (though with a few hints from the universe). Regardless of whether I end up writing more, hope you enjoyed this bit._


End file.
